


Forgiveness

by Kate_Shepard



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: The five times Shepard met Bray.
Relationships: Bray/Female Shepard (Mass Effect)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Forgiveness

The first time Shepard met Bray, she was swaying on her feet in front of a batarian bartender she’d known better than to accept a drink from. But this was Omega. There was no getting away from batarians here. 

She hated this place. Before the Reapers, she’d made a name for herself for going up against the barbarians who’d taken her family and her home. Everything she’d ever known, gone with the wail of air raid sirens as a backdrop to the end of the world. Her mother, Hannah, dead from Shepard’s own bullet. Her brothers, scattered. She’d watched her twin brother, John, die when he tried to protect her best friend from one of them. And yet they thought humans were the bad guys. 

She scowled at the batarian behind the bar through vision gone hazy and considered her options. Miranda and Jack were somewhere around, but she didn’t know where they’d disappeared to. Her cybernetics didn’t allow her to get drunk this fast off of ryncol, much less fucking shard wine. This asshole had poisoned her. She swayed again, her numb fingers wrapping around the grip of her pistol. She drew and aimed, but her finger wouldn’t cooperate to pull the trigger. A shot rang out behind her. She and the bartender went down at the same time, but while the other hit the floor, she fell into a pair of strong arms. 

“Easy, Shepard,” a growling voice said when she tried to fight. 

Another batarian. She had just enough time to register that before gloved fingers shoved into her mouth, prying her teeth apart and pushing against the back of her throat. She bit down on his gauntlet and twisted in his grip but succeeded only in throwing up all over his boots. He sighed but scooped her hair out of the way and held it until she stopped and then carried her out to the corridor behind the bar and set her almost gently onto the filthy floor. Crouching in front of her, he scanned her with his omni-tool.

“Get away from me,” she croaked, but there was no force to the words. She turned and retched again, lacking even the strength to find a corner to do it in. The vorcha working around them didn’t acknowledge their presence. 

He said, “You should know better than to order a drink at Afterlife, Commander, especially from Forvan. You’re lucky I saw you. Nobody’s survived it yet. I didn’t know if getting it out would be enough. I think you’ll be okay, though. Your system seems to be clearing it out.”

“What do you want?” she asked, wiping her mouth and raking a hand through her hair. 

His lower set of eyes remained on his omni-tool as the upper ones looked at her. “Aria saw you going to Forvan. She sent me to deal with it. Said to tell you thanks for the intel.”

The mention of the pirate queen relaxed her incrementally. She and Aria had an accord. She wouldn’t quite say they liked each other, but Shepard thought they at least understood each other. If Aria sent him, he probably wasn’t here to murder her. 

He gestured to a nearby human who turned and ran back to the bar, returning a moment later with a bottle of water and her teammates. Jack posted up behind her with her arms crossed as Miranda did her own examination. The batarian took the water from the human and took a sip as if to show that it was safe before offering it to her. She took it, figuring he wouldn’t save her from poisoning only to poison her with something else, and drank slowly. Her stomach rebelled, but he watched until she’d finished it all. 

He said, “I’ll spread the word that you’re not to be touched here. This won’t happen again.”

“Why do you care?” she asked. 

All four eyes roamed over her and his lips thinned for a moment before he answered. “Let’s just say I owe you and leave it at that.”

“How can you owe me?” she asked. “I’ve never even met you. Who are you?”

“Bray,” he answered.   
  


* * *

The second time she met Bray, they’d just returned through the Omega 4 relay and limped into dock at Omega for repairs. She was exhausted, running on fumes, heartbroken at the loss of some of her crew, and the last thing she needed was the asshole who met them at the docks and got mouthy with her.

A familiar batarian came up behind him and growled, “Get the fuck out, Vordan. Aria cleared her.” He waited for the other to leave before turning to her. “I’ve got a warehouse with supplies for your ship, and Daniel in the clinic sent word that it’s prepared to take wounded if you need it. I assume your mission was successful?”

“Ultimately, yes,” she said tiredly. “I...thank you.”

She hadn’t expected this kind of consideration from a batarian. She would check the quality of the materials, of course, but she’d have done that even if they came from the Alliance. Was this more Aria, she wondered, or was this Bray’s initiative? She was too tired for a discussion about it. 

“No problem,” he said. “I figured you wouldn’t want strangers on board the ship, but I have a crew on standby just in case.”

“Again, thank you, but you’re right. We’ll handle it.” 

She did at least manage to save most of the crew, so the engineers would be able to take care of the repairs. The SR-2 might not be a classified military vessel, but that didn’t mean she wanted mercenaries and criminals on board her ship. At least, no more than she’d already recruited. 

“You’ll want lodging, too, if the outside is any indication of the condition of the inside,” he said. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you the way. You’re welcome on Omega for as long as you need to stay.”

This had to be Aria. It couldn’t be anything else. She certainly believed in making sure she didn’t owe shit to anyone. They were more than even now in Shepard’s mind, but apparently just saving her life wasn’t enough. Shepard had secured her power. After this, though, she wasn’t going to accept anything else from Aria T’Loak without some kind of leverage. She didn’t want to owe the pirate queen, either.

She climbed into the skycar with Bray, leaving Garrus and Grunt to stand guard at the ship while she scouted out their new quarters with Jack and Miri. While he drove, she leaned her head back against the seat, trusting them to guard her six, and closed her eyes. The pain coiling around her belly like a thresher maw threatened to overwhelm her. She saw Jacob stumble backward, blood blooming on his armor. She saw Thane’s calm composure break as the swarm carried him away. She saw Kelly melting. Tears burned the back of her throat. Too many. Far too many. 

“We’re here,” Bray said quietly, setting the car down.

She opened her eyes to see that they were on the balcony of a highrise apartment. The door opened, and she climbed out with Miri and Jack close behind her. He led them inside, using his omni-tool to unlock the glass balcony doors and deactivate the ballistic barrier. Inside, the apartment was large and airy with a short hallway leading to what she assumed were bedrooms. The rest of it was open. 

Blue-tinged lights overhead cut through the orange Omega haze, brightening the space, and planters held live flora from several different worlds. Some had grow lamps overhead. Others had misters discreetly placed above them. Paintings decorated the walls, ranging from expressionistic to the ridiculous. An original Salvador Dali caught her eye. 

“Wow. Okay, Kasumi does not get to come here,” Shepard said, whistling under her breath. 

Bray waved a dismissive hand. “It’s a counterfeit anyway. A good one, if I do say so myself, but a reproduction all the same. If it fools her well enough to steal it, I don’t think the artist will complain. Anyway, make yourselves at home. There’s another across the hall. Pretty sure there’s room for everybody, though no promises nobody will have to sleep on the floor.”

“We’re used to hot bunking,” she said, still looking around.

She scanned the room, taking in the shape of the furniture, the food items in the open pantry, the faint, sweet scent of batarian cigarettes lingering in the air like the cherry tobacco pipe her father used to smoke, and her eyes narrowed on him.

“This is yours, isn’t it?” she demanded. 

“Don’t worry about it, Shepard,” he said, none of his eyes meeting hers. 

“Why?” she asked. “Is this part of that debt you think you owe me? What’s it for? When does it end? When is it enough for whatever you think you did to me?”

He didn’t answer, instead walking for the door. She chased after him, reaching out to grasp his elbow and turn him around. He tugged away, turning only when the door was about to close between them. 

“Never,” he said.

* * *

The third time she met Bray was on Omega again when she helped Aria retake the station. She’d thought it was the last time even if Aria did send him back with them to coordinate the mercenary groups on the Citadel on her behalf. He gave a low whistle when she led him into the CIC. He went up to the galaxy map, standing in roughly the same spot where Pressly used to stand on the SR-1. 

She stopped, recalling one of the last conversations she’d had with the navigator that hadn’t been strictly work-related. He’d asked about the number of aliens she was bringing on board and made no attempt to hide his disapproval. She didn’t like being questioned on her own ship, especially not by people she barely knew, and especially not because of xenophobia. It hadn’t mattered to her that he’d participated in the First Contact War. That was three decades ago. They were integrated now. He’d needed to get over it. 

_What’s next? Elcor? A ‘friendly’ geth?_

_Enough! Hear this, Pressly, and hear it well. If a fucking_ batarian _can help me stop the Reapers, I will add a fucking batarian to my crew. I may not like it. I may not sleep soundly at night. But I will take anyone who can help me accomplish this mission. If you have a problem with that, I can relieve you of duty and drop you off at the nearest Alliance depot today._

 _That won’t be necessary, ma’am_.

She’d thought about that conversation once before when she’d activated Legion. She’d been mostly facetious about the batarian, though. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever imagined a batarian being on her beloved ship. 

The idea of one who wasn’t her enemy was foreign to her, and she still didn’t understand why he felt he had to support her, especially after Bahak. She’d killed a third of a million of his people. She was the Butcher. She killed his kind just as his kind had killed hers. 

There had been five of them. Their mother, a staunch Methodist whose faith had only strengthened after learning there was other life in the galaxy, had given them all biblical names. Mathew and Mark were the eldest, twins who were as different as night and day. Luke came next on his own. She and John followed. They’d been inseparable for as long as she could remember. He taught her how to use a rifle, programmed her first tactical cloak, ran the boys off her when they tried to get too close. He’d saved her. Indirectly, but he’d saved her, giving her the skills to survive when the rest of them were gone.

She still didn’t know where her other brothers were, if they were alive or dead, slaves or merely lost. The idea that they might be in the Bahak system had been the only thing which gave her pause and made her consider evacuating the system. She told herself she’d rather be dead than a batarian slave and that if they were there, killing them was mercy. She’d still grieved the possibility. 

Bray looked across the galaxy map at her, tilting his head to the left in respect. She narrowed her eyes at him and waved for him to follow her. He’d given up his home to them for two weeks while they repaired the ship and restocked. She could do no less, so she took him up to her cabin. She didn’t sleep much anyway, and the trip to the Citadel was a relatively short one. If nothing else, she could crash in Liara’s cabin or on the cot she still kept tucked away in Life Support. 

“Shepard, I can’t take your cabin,” he protested. 

“You gave me your home,” she said. 

His eyes slid away. He rolled a shoulder and turned away from her. A hand raked across his alien face. 

She’d always thought batarians were ugly, even when she no longer feared them. Bray was different. When she looked at him, she didn’t notice the fine hairs on his face or the swells of flesh bracketing his mouth or the thinness of his lips or strangeness of his nose. She was beginning to notice things like the dark pools of his eyes, the strength of his body on the rare occasions she’d seen him in civilian clothing, the elegant competence of his hands when he flew a starship or handled a weapon or typed something on his omni-tool. He was beginning to become not just a batarian to her but a person. 

The person standing in front of her now was weighed down by guilt. She knew it when she saw it. God knew she was familiar enough with it. She’d never been to Omega before she’d gone to retrieve Garrus and Mordin. Shockingly enough, nothing truly bad had ever happened to her there aside from the bartender poisoning her. Bad things happened there, but that was the only incident directed at her specifically. She’d expected worse from the notorious station. So, unless he was the one who gave the bartender the poison, she didn’t understand what he thought he’d done to her that was so bad. Unless it came before or wasn’t associated with Omega at all. 

She didn’t recognize him, so she hadn’t seen him on Mindoir. He wasn’t one of the ones who’d hurt her or her family or friends. She could still see their faces as clearly as her brothers’. He wasn’t from Torfan. She’d met John’s murderer there and lost her mind, murdering her prisoners in a fit of righteous fury. Not a single batarian had survived Torfan. Likewise, she didn’t think he was with Balak’s crew on the asteroid above Terra Nova, though she couldn’t be certain of that. The Blitz, perhaps? She’d been there and helped hold the line. The Alliance had commended her for it, but it had been a group effort. Even she couldn’t have done that all on her own. There’d been too many of them. 

That must be it. He participated in the Blitz. But then he’d left and gone into service to Aria, and she couldn’t imagine T’Loak letting her second-in-command shirk his duties to go out raiding. He stopped. He clearly felt guilty about his participation and was trying to atone. It didn’t make it right, but it was better than she’d expected from a batarian. 

Her mother probably would have been disappointed in the person her daughter had become. The youngest child with four older brothers—John was born first, as he’d loved to remind her—she’d learned to take care of herself and had been just as rough and tumble as they were, but she’d also been coddled and protected by them. Her parents encouraged her to be feminine without ever equating that with weakness. She’d been soft-spoken but strong-willed, dreamy but pragmatic, innocent but aware of the ways of the world. 

She’d followed her mother’s faith, at least until she’d lost it. The moment she was forced to pull the trigger on her own mother to save her from being dragged into a batarian slave ship, she’d stopped believing in God. If he was there, he didn’t care anything about them, and she owed him nothing. Vengeance became her god. 

That didn’t mean she would permanently hate someone who’d turned his life around. It would be different if he’d killed her brother or her mother. She hadn’t known anyone on Elysium. She could forgive that. It wasn’t like she was looking at him as a potential friend or partner. They were associates, that was all.

“Let it go, Bray,” she said. “Whatever it is, just let it go. I promise you, I have.”

“I very highly doubt that,” he said, “but thank you for the use of your cabin.”

She sighed and turned back to the elevator. Stubborn batarian.

* * *

The fourth time she met Bray, she was dying. The Crucible had fired, exploding and crashing down around her. She didn’t know how long she lay there, caught between fighting against death and begging it to take her. When she heard the voices shouting for her, she thought she was hallucinating. Aria was on Omega. Why would she be here, searching for Shepard? 

A blue glow surrounded the slab of concrete serving as the lid to her sarcophagus. Debris shifted around her, dust raining down onto her face and making her cough. The motion sent pain screaming through her anguished body. 

Someone snapped, “Be careful, damn it!”

Aria’s voice answered curtly, “I’m being as careful as I can, _Bray_. You try lifting two tons of concrete with your mind. Everybody, move!” 

A crash resounded somewhere away from her. Faint light streamed down onto her. A face came into her vision, four eyes roving over her, a voice urging her to open her eyes, to still be with him. She gasped for breath, fighting another of those excruciating coughs.

“She’s alive!” he exclaimed. 

More of the rubble moved, and then Aria, Bray, and a few people she didn’t recognize leaned over her. Some of them looked at her face. Others dug through what was left of the debris around her. 

Bray. “Shit. How are we supposed to get her out of here with that?”

A salarian. “Can’t. There’s no way to know how many major blood vessels it might be blocking from bleeding out.”

“So what do we do? We can’t leave her here.” Bray again.

Aria. “Call for a medic.”

A human. “They won’t come.” 

“They’ll damn well come for the savior of the fucking galaxy, or they’ll answer to Tevos herself!” Aria, of course.

The salarian again. “They said they couldn’t come even if it _was_ Tevos. They’re overwhelmed.”

“Fuck.”

“Screw this.” Bray. “If they can’t get to her, then we have to get her to them.” He leaned over her, his fingers almost reverent on her hair, possibly the one place on her entire body that wasn’t raging at her. “Forgive me, Shepard. Aria, meld with her. Block the pain.”

She lacked the strength to fight the mind that invaded hers as she had Liara and Shiala at first. The Citadel faded away and she found herself standing on a darkened stage like that which Liara had shown to her. The weight of centuries pressed down onto her, the awareness of an age which she couldn’t comprehend, of generations coming and going as she remained, love and loss and heartaches beyond counting, and then she was standing outside herself, looking down. 

She was damaged almost beyond recognition as a human being. Her body looked more like a burnt chunk of charcoal than a person. Her face was relatively unscathed, but she barely noticed. Her attention was on the batarian kneeling beside her, his normally-confident hands trembling as he tied something around her leg, handing the edges off to a krogan to pull tight. A tourniquet. It wasn’t going to help much with the piece of rebar impaling her thigh just above her knee. 

Then his omniblade opened and she understood what he was doing. The salarian gently moved her other leg out of the way so that it didn’t get cut. Bray cast a sorrowful look at her face before slashing down with all of the force in her body. He grunted as if he’d cut into himself. Her leg, the one she was standing on, shrieked in pain and buckled. Aria caught her, steadying her again.

“He loves you, you know,” the asari said. 

“He what?” she asked. The non sequitur did what she suspected was its job, distracting her from the sight of the batarian cutting off her leg. 

“He loves you,” Aria repeated. “But he’ll never tell you because he doesn’t believe you will ever forgive him.”

“For _what_?” she exclaimed. “What did he do? Raid Elysium? Fuck, that was years ago. I’m over it!”

“Not Elysium,” Aria said with a gentleness Shepard never would have imagined from her. 

Shepard froze, caught between gaping at the asari and the batarian. “No.”

“Yes,” Aria said. 

Below, Bray scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest like a child. He held her like she was precious. How could he do that, knowing that he had taken everything she loved? Her hands curled into fists at her sides. He was right. Nothing would ever make that better. No amount of aid could make that right. He would never stop owing her. 

“Now, give him a chance, Shepard,” Aria said. “Do you know where he’s from?”

“I don’t give a shit,” she snapped.

“Aratoht.”

Shepard’s eyes cut to the asari, but Aria’s expression gave nothing away. She somehow doubted that Aria could lie to her here, though. And why would she? Aria did nothing without reason. But she’d gone out of her way for Shepard again and again. Why?

“I have known many people in my lifetime, but I’ve had very few friends, Shepard. Am I wrong to count you as one?”

“No,” she said. 

“Then listen to me when I ask, don’t you think you’re even now? He took your world. You took his. You’ve made peace between the krogan and the Council races, and between the quarians and the geth, but you can’t make peace with someone who’s suffered in the same way you have and tried to make it right? Come on, Shepard,” she said derisively.

“Why do you care about this? What’s in it for you?” she asked. 

Aria shrugged. “You just saved the galaxy. You’ve saved Omega and my place there several times over. I’m not sure I’ll stop owing you for the next century or so. When I am the one who raced across a galaxy for you, I’d say you’re pretty well fucked for friends, too. Give him a chance at redemption, Shepard. Trust me, you don’t want to spend your entire life alone.”

Below, Bray said quietly, anguished, “Stay with me, Shepard. Don’t quit now. Come on, soldier, _fight_.” 

* * *

The fifth time she met Bray, he was standing guard outside her room with Aria, where he’d been posted every time she’d woken before. He heard her moans of pain and came in, running a gentle hand over the top of her head. At first, she thought he was attacking her, that he was the source of her agony, and she tried to fight him. 

He caught her hands in a careful grip and murmured, “Shhh. You’re safe. It’s over. You won.”

A moment later, relief rushed through her veins in the form of what she assumed to be pain medication. She blinked up at him, remembering everything. He let her pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Aria said she told you. I wanted to. I just didn’t know how.”

“You killed them,” she said. 

“I know,” he said. “And I hate myself for it. I left the Hegemony after that. Took this job with Aria. I was high up in the SIU, but I’d never been on a raid before Mindoir. I’d planned a few of them, but I didn’t go myself. I don’t remember why I did on that one. But I remember looking around at everything on fire, the people trying to protect each other, the children, the elderly, and thinking that there was no way to justify what we were doing. If people want to sell themselves for whatever reason, that’s their business. But taking people from their homes, ripping infants from their mothers, there is nothing sacred about that. I tried to get it changed. When I couldn’t, I left.”

She couldn’t look at him. She stared up at the ceiling, asking herself if she could forgive. If she _should_ forgive. 

“Do you know what happened to my other brothers?” she asked.

“Dead, I think,” he said regretfully. “I checked when you came to Omega the first time. I’d recognized you during your hunt for Saren. I looked you up, saw that there were siblings missing. When you showed up on Omega, I thought maybe if I could find them and bring them back, I could begin to atone. But there were no records I could locate that referenced any Shepards or fit their descriptions. Which means they probably died. Again, I’m sorry, Commander.”

“You’re from Aratoht?” she asked.

He nodded. “My parents lived there. My little sister. My niece and nephew. A few household slaves who’d been there long enough to feel like family. Friends. Colleagues. Enemies. No more or less than what I deserve.”

“I’m sorry,” she said to the ceiling. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Because I didn’t try to save them. You have just as much right to hate me as I do you.” 

Aria was right. She was tired of war. She was tired of fighting. She wanted peace. She wanted normalcy. If the quarians and geth could forgive each other deeply enough to integrate into each other, if the krogans and salarians could sit side by side to negotiate, then she should be able to forgive one batarian whom she’d harmed just as deeply. 

She added, “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I think it’s time to stop fighting.”

He asked, “May I stay? Help you get back on your feet?” 

“I don’t really have a lot of people clamoring for the job,” she said with a hint of a wry grin. 

“Jack and Miranda have been relieving us to guard you,” he told her. “The shuttle pilot has been here a few times with the burly one, the krogan, and the mercenary.”

The _Normandy_ was still missing with most of her crew. But even then, she wasn’t sure how many more names would be added to that list. She hadn’t taken the time to build relationships or form deep friendships. They were loyal to her, yes, but they didn’t _know_ her. 

He added with a chuckle, “Pretty sure the one who stole my painting has been here, too, but she won’t uncloak around me. Probably thinks I want it back.”

“You don’t?” she asked. 

“Art is meant to be shared,” he said. “And I made another.”

“You painted that?” she asked.

“I painted all of them,” he said. 

She’d never considered batarians as artists or musicians. She’d never thought of them as having hobbies and nieces they grieved. She hadn’t thought about them caring about their slaves or counting their loss as family members. She hadn’t thought of them as _people_. She’d depersonalized them in the same way they did humans. 

If the galaxy was ever to be at peace, they were going to have to stop doing that. Old enmities had to be set aside. She’d taken the first steps with Balak and Bray. Now, it was time to take another. 

“You can stay.”


End file.
